Touch Me
by TurnUps
Summary: A LadyNoir (kinda) oneshot set after the third episode of season 2. Chat would like answers, Ladybug would like to avoid them.


**(A/N): I had an assignment due, so I wrote this instead because that third episode was RIPE for angst.**  
 **It's not a song fic, but I very much had in mind the sound 'Touch Me' from the Spring Awakening musical as I was writing it - so if you wanted to listen to it as you read it, it might be kind of cool. (I also listened to 'All I Ask of You' from Phantom, which could be interesting )**  
 **I might do more of these because there are a couple of other moments I have in mind to explore.**

* * *

"M'lady, a word?"

Ladybug suppressed a groan. She had been waiting for this since the latest Akuma attack. It was only a matter of time before Chat brought it up. And of course, a quiet night on patrol was the _perfect_ time for him to bring it up –

Oh, and just as they were coming up to Notre Dame.

 _He planned this, didn't he? He waited it out – he probably timed it yesterday. So that he could ask just as they passed._

 _He was such a romantic._

"What's up, Chat?" she pretended as though she didn't know what his next question would be. As though everything was peachy perfe-

"Why was it such a big deal to you?" Chat slowed slightly; walking instead of jogging - as though he was short of breath. "The question of us being together?"

"You – you know I don't like you like that, Chat," Ladybug kept jogging. Slowing meant looking him in the eye. See his face drop.

Even when they were messing around – there was always something that - dimmed when she pushed him away. A flame being smothered. It made her heart twinge. _She wouldn't be able to stand it if someone kept ignoring_ Alya _like that – how could she do it to someone else?_

 _But she had to – for Adrien. Otherwise – it all meant nothing, didn't it? That day in the rain –_

 _She had known it then. Love._

 _If she accepted Chat Noir – would that love mean nothing?_

"I know," the words sounded heavy coming from his mouth. "It's just – you got so – riled up about it. A kiss is only a kiss, you know?"

"So, you've been kissing all of your fans, have you, kitty?" Ladybug said it with a smile, but there was a tinge of hurt in her heart. _Was she really just another triumph for him? Another girl to make swoon at his feet?_

 _Why did she even care?_

"That's not what I meant," Chat sounded almost panicked. He had stopped moving. Ladybug slowed. "I just meant – like stage-kissing or kissing for a picture – it wouldn't have been a _real_ kiss in that subway car, would it?"

"So, what you're saying is you've done a lot of stage-kissing?" Ladybug asked. Because that steered the conversation away from her.

Her heart was pounding but she couldn't figure out why. This was just a normal conversation. She shouldn't care about who Chat Noir was kissing or not kissing or if he was doing it onstage or-

"I would reveal my identity to you in a heartbeat-" His voice rang through her ears like a freight train, but he had said it normally. Perhaps a little quietly. Yearning. "You know that."

Notre Dame rung out for the half hour. It was silhouetted between them.

 _It's your fault._

"I love someone," the words didn't tumble from her lips. They came methodically. Like she was counting.

Like she was trying to convince herself she had gotten a maths equation right. Going through the steps to prove her logic.

"It wouldn't be right," she continued. "To kiss you, when I love him."

"Right," Chat said. But he had missed a beat. He had let the silence go on too long and his understanding tone sounded forced.

"We should-" Ladybug turned over her shoulder, her eyes brushing over him as she gestured to the twinkle of lights that was the rest of Paris.

"Not even a stage kiss?"

Chat was watching her.

She wanted to run. _Why couldn't her transformation run down even without Miraculous Ladybug?_ She needed an excuse to leave.

"There are more important things for us to do," she said, crossing her arms – but not over her chest – around her ribs. Like it would hold in that pounding heart. Like a shield.

"It's quiet as the grave tonight," Chat said. He took an almost lazy step towards her – but she could see the tension in his knees. "As quiet as the survivors of the Hugo's books."

She examined his face. It seemed too serious – his eyes watching hers like a tiger's – evaluating her every move.

His mouth-

 _She couldn't look at his mouth – then he would think that she was thinking about – and she wasn't – she wasn't-_

 _He put the idea there with his talk of it-_

"We should be tracking down who took so many photos of us," Ladybug said. "Not – stage kissing and making things worse."

 _That was the reason. That and – she didn't want to –_

 _No, she didn't-_

Chat raised an eyebrow, a sliver of his trademark smirk appearing on his face.

"Bugaboo, you called me pussycat on live t.v," he said. "I think that tells a lot more about our private lives."

It was suddenly very hot for an October night. Ladybug's hair felt as though it was suffocating her.

"It was just a joke," she stammered. "That's your fault – with your ears and your tail and your bell-" She flicked the offender as though to prove the point. It rang once in an echo of Notre Dame's bells.

Chat's eyes finally flicked away from her for a second. She could see the red on his face.

"I didn't _choose_ to be a _cat_ ," he said, pouting slightly. He even grabbed his tail protectively.

Ladybug laughed. This was easier. Teasing him. Pretending everything was normal.

But then he touched her wrist.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Ladybug," he said. And his face was all she could see. "Have you ever actually been in an intimate relationship with another person?"

She was frozen, staring at him.

"Of course," she said. "My parents – and my best friend-"

"You know I don't mean in that way," Chat's voice was even lower. She was tempted to say a growl, but that wouldn't be accurate. It was somewhere between a growl and a purr.

 _Physically and emotionally intimate._

 _Loved romantically._

"I don't know…" she trailed off as his expression became more lost. More desperate. Something in his eyes. Like he _needed_ this. Like she was his last hope. "No."

"I just –" Chat's fingers tightened slightly on her wrist. Not threateningly. As though he was scared she would slip away. _She wanted to want to slip away – but his breath was warm and he looked so vulnerable._ "I want to be loved, Ladybug. I want someone to love me."

"Don't you have…" she trailed off. She had never asked Chat about his personal life. Not for lack of concern – because it always seemed like a big no-no. He would roll it off his shoulders or pretend to see something in the darkness.

He gave a breathless half-laugh.

"For someone so clever, you're a wonder," Chat said. "I can't believe that you can't figure out who I am."

"I haven't wanted to know," Ladybug said. Because suddenly the truth seemed a lot easier to say. "You're Chat Noir. You're my partner and that's all there is to it."

"Really?" Chat's voice was faint. Breaking.

Her heart was in her mouth. She could only stare at him with her eyebrows drawn and her mouth slightly open. Trying to think of a response. Feeling herself breathe. In. Out.

In.

Out.

"Touch me," Chat said. She watched his chest rising and falling. Glass swelling when its blown – just before it breaks.

He raised her wrist to his cheek, so that it cradled his head – leant into the touch.

Dropped his hand.

Ladybug didn't move.

Her mind told her to pull away. She silenced it.

She stepped closer to Chat, her hand slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. His head lolled forward like a dolls, his forehead pressing against hers.

Her other hand cupped his cheek and she felt his arms surround her.

They stood, a slight wind chilling them both, and just felt each other breathing. _He was so warm. And alive. And where he touched her felt like it was glowing. As though she would have his handprints shining on her back._

His stomach nudged hers when he breathed in.

 _It was incredible. That he was alive – that she was alive – and they were holding each other._

At some point, Notre Dame rung out the three quarters of an hour mark. It felt as though every gargoyle on the building was watching them.

The whole world could be watching them.

She wouldn't feel a thing. There was just her and Chat and the cold world pressing against them.

"You really think Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth?" Chat whispered.

"I don't know."

It was a half lie. She still suspected him. Even when he was an akuma…there was something wrong with that situation.

"Why does it mean so much to you?" she whispered back.

Chat stiffened slightly. The tips of his claws poked her back. She thought for a moment that he might start kneading her.

"I'm a model," he said slowly. "I've worked for him from time to time."

 _It wasn't revealing his identity – there were dozens of models in the Agreste Company. All different ages. There were probably a hundred models that looked like Chat Noir._

"I don't imagine him being close with his models," Ladybug said. She could see the moon from over his shoulder. A half moon, covered by mist.

"I can just tell you my name, if you're going to keep pressing me for it," Chat said. There was a tinge of humour in his voice.

But also desire. He wanted so badly to tell her, she knew.

It scared her. There was no going back if she knew. They would both know each other.

A red string would be tied between them from that moment.

"What if we're in the middle of battle and I yell your name by accident?"

She had thought about it often. It was one of the many little things she had told herself as a reason not to reveal their identities. A little reason –

But it was important.

 _Wasn't it?_

"You're my closest friend, Ladybug," Chat said. She could feel his jaw moving against her shoulder.

"I know, Chat," she said. "You're mine too."

"Then-"

Chat's hands slipped from around her waist to cup her cheeks, gently. She let out a shaky breath as his thumbs nudged her bottom lip.

"Just once," Chat whispered. His forehead bumped against hers.

She stared at his eyes, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose from under the mask-

His mouth.

His thumbs on her lips. A shield. His nose pressing against her cheek as they kissed-

Stage kissed.

 _If his fingers are there it's not really a kiss –_

 _It doesn't count if his fingers are there._

 _If someone took a picture of it-_

 _Oh, who cares? He needs this._

Her arms criss-crossed over his back, her head tilting into the faked kiss. It felt like so much more.

 _So much more but still safe._

 _Because he hadn't taken her first kiss. Not technically. That was still reserved for Adrien._

Her heart pounded in her ears, her eyes closed, her cheeks tingling.

 _Chat needed this. He needed to feel loved-_

 _She needed it too. Something deep inside her was singing at this moment. As though it had been waiting for it._

 _Tikki had always said that Chat Noir and Ladybug were intrinsically linked. This was the proof._

 _The two of them – as the superheroes of Paris – that was fate._

 _And they weren't meant to be best friends._

 _That was fine._

 _She knew now_ , as she kissed the pads of Chat's thumbs and pressed her body against the shape of his, _that they were always meant to be lovers._

 _And one day that would be okay._

 _As long as she could love Adrien just a little longer. Just until she was ready –_

 _And then she would kiss Chat Noir. Because they both needed this. To be held like they were important. Like she was the missing part of Chat's puzzle._

 _One day more…_

Notre Dame struck midnight.


End file.
